We Only Really Face Up To Ourselves

One Day You're Cut Off, At The Very Start You're Cut Off And Can't Go Back, The Language You Learn And The Whole Business Of Walking And All The Rest Is For The Sake Of The Single Thought, How To Get Back Again.

The Art We Need Is The Art Of Bearing The Unbearable.

You Are Never Truly Together With One You Love Until The Person In Question Is Dead And Actually Inside You.

The Only Friends I Have Are The Dead Who Have Bequeathed Their Writings To Me — I Have No Others.

You've Always Lived A Life Of Pretense, Not A Real Life-- A Simulated Existence, Not A Genuine Existence. Everything About You, Everything You Are, Has Always Been Pretense, Never Genuine, Never Real.